So much indoor time (it’s officially very cold and very wet outside) has shown me that if Sara jumped off a cliff, Kelly would indeed follow her.  But Kelly would take responsibility for such a mindless decision by throwing her own twist into it….like, halfway down she’d start to blame Sara for poor leadership and she would bite Sara’s finger off.  Because you know, that would change everything.  Let’s just say their behavior lately has been an endless string of taking turns jumping off the cliff, and whomever is left, quickly turning into a lemming and following.

I’m praying today is as bad as it gets.  I’m praying the weather will break.  I’m praying that somehow my parenting will rise from the ashes and these girls will turn into little ladies…ANY…DAY…NOW.  Sara stayed at school for a much coveted “extended day”.  She’s been trying hard at school to leave her Wigglebottoms at the door (I keep it in my pocket for her, and make sure she has enough to use during gym class and recess); she has earned a “lunch buncher” day.  At pick up, we were invited by friends to join them for an after school snack.  How lovely!  Yes!  All 3 of us cheered a resounding, “We’d love to!”

I’d love for the story to end there.  We had fruit smoothies and enjoyed a chat about summer camps, and voila!  What a great snack, period.  But you know me well enough to know…I’d never blog that story.

Do I start with Kelly eating all the grapes to Sara’s dismay, and Sara, in retaliation, dumping the rest of the fruit upside down on the table?  Or do I just jump to the part where Sara took her smoothie straw and tried to draw in the mess as I was cleaning it up?  Maybe I should start at the moment Kelly kicked Sara, jumped off her chair, and kicked me twice?  Let’s not leave out Sara throwing 2 napkins at my face.  To the grandparents reading in complete disbelief: THESE ARE YOUR GRANDCHILDREN AND I’M NOT MAKING THIS UP.

I called it a day (not soon enough and after too many shallow threats), and forewarned of impending consequences, thereby reducing both girls to blubbering [insert loud] tears. And then I realized I couldn’t find my keys.  Because as every parent with a decompensating preschooler knows…THAT’S HOW THAT WORKS. My good friend Camille is a brilliant brunette, and while the world thinks all brunettes look alike, brunettes secretly know that all brunettes can read each other’s facial expressions.  She saw the quiet panic in my eyes, and assisted in my wild hunt for those damn keys.  Camille is also the kind of friend who will call you later and make you feel better about your Lord of the Flies children.  Where would we be without the kind of girlfriends who never make us feel like we’re doing it wrong?  Hugs Camille…big hugs.

Once in the car, the girls realized the trip had gone horribly wrong.  I won’t bore you with the long list of, “What on earth were you thinking?”, and “No one will ever ask us to snacks again”.  Because, at the end of it all, I said it.  IT.  The thing Mothers who live in farming communities say to their children; the thing said to me in the Cinderella Shop by my Mother’s friend when I was 7; the statement I found so offensive, to this day, I haven’t forgiven Joyce for saying it to me:

“Were you raised in a barn?”

Ugh.  Raised in a barn.  When I was 7, I was horrified that anyone would compare me to a barn animal.  I’m a YOUNG LADY.  BARN?!  Have you ever been in a BARN?!  Who would raise a child in a barn? You know my Mother is addicted to her vacuum and cleaning supplies!  We live in a surgical suite, not a barn.

Today? 31 years later?  I’m offended on behalf of those cows.  I’ve known a fair number of docile and well-behaved barn animals in my life, and they would have looked at my daughters today, shook their heads, and thought, “I am ashamed to know these people. Don’t look at us, we’re not together.  We live over there in that beautiful, peaceful barn.”

After taking away their Tuesday night at Gymboree, after making them sit on their beds to contemplate their behavior, after my own stewing in silence, I remembered a great Frank Zappa quote: “The more boring a child is, the more the parents, when showing off the child, receive adulation for being good parents — because they have a tame child-creature in their house.”  I won’t need to pencil “receive adulation” into my calendar…whew!  What a time saver.

The girls conceded that they’d like to apologize to their friends, and if they had it to do over, they’d admit they were too tired to meet for snacks.  Those thoughtful insights did not win their Gymboree playtime back, but it did win them grilled cheese on a carpet picnic with Mommy, where we could talk about better ways to express the emotion of, “I’m so tired that I cannot possibly act like a human for one more second.”  Good chat girls.  Now go to your barn…I mean your bed, and we’ll try, try again tomorrow.  Oh Lordy, does this ever get easier?